Ascension Spell
by aquila20
Summary: Things have calmed down in Mystic Falls after Alaric is dispatched; that is, until Elena is kidnapped by a warlock bent on opening the gates of Hell! Will her rescuers be getting more than they bargained for? AU, set after season 3, written for NaNoWriMo this Nov. Some OCs involved. Main pairing is Elena x Elijah, but lots of other pairings mentioned (e.g. Klaroline, Delena..)
1. Chapter 1: Midnight Visitors

**Hello Readers ;) This story is my first fanfiction that I have shared with others, and was written for this past November's NaNoWriMo after my fandom hijacked all my ideas for an original storyline. Basically, its all already written but needs to be edited and have plot holes filled in, so I think updates should be fairly consistent. It's LOOOONG; rating may be changed later in the story depending on what I choose to edit out. Also, be warned, there are some TVD book-universe-isms that have integrated themselves into my story (Meredith Sulez, for example). **

**October 28, Mystic Falls. **

For a few seconds, panic filled Adlar's mind as the heavy door wouldn't respond to his touch.

Silently, he gritted his teeth and pulled harder, letting out a pent-up sigh as it finally gave in, and he scurried in from the drenching rain. Just one of the reasons he couldn't afford to be locked outside tonight.

The soft, sandy remains of grave sand stubbornly clung to his fingers from the wet, but Adlar was too busy to care about that right at the moment—he had more pressing matters to attend to. The warlock had experienced a rough night, having come the closest he had been so far to being caught since he'd arrived in Mystic Falls four months ago in May. They wouldn't find him here though. Here he was safe, the sigils etched into the blessed wood the barn was constructed with would protect him.

Urging all the effort he could from his pale, thin frame, the young warlock hoisted his prize into the room—an armful of leg bones from a dead virgin whose grave he had dug around in—his prize for the evening, an honorable addition to the spell he had brewing for the last several months. He couldn't remember the name on the tombstone he had desecrated to get at her, and honestly he didn't care. The bones went quickly into a bubbling cauldron in the center of the room, which stirred a deep forest green color upon their addition. The cauldron, old and iron grey, had served many witches and wizards before him, both powerful and meek, and he knew it would serve him well on this final quest he was set upon.

As soon as that task was completed, Adlar wasted no time in sweeping the empty barn with his eyes, searching for anything out of place, any evidence of an observer or an intruder. He knew that the stakes were high on this gamble—he had come too far to turn back now, and if he failed at this course of his task, the punishment would be real and very severe. He could not afford to turn back, and he could not afford to fail. As his spell inched nearer and nearer towards completion, he found himself growing more and more paranoid, knowing he was finally so close.

So far, the police had seemed so comfortingly oblivious to his presence in town that it was tempting to let down his guard a little bit. However, Adlar knew that there were things far worse than police he had to worry about in Mystic Falls—unspeakable creatures of the night, things that used to be human and had somehow devolved into the monsters that everyone fears with their life late at night in the dark. It wasn't a normal town, and he knew enough about its denizens to justifiably terrify him. Even if they didn't kill him directly, it wouldn't take much deviation from the plan to surely result in his death—for his master was also not one to forgive casual errors in judgment, however justifiable.

To make matters even worse, by now his physical body was beginning to show the effects of such prolonged effort, and Adlar was a ghost of the young man he used to be. As he looked down at the skeletal remains of his hands, he knew that he would not be able to last much longer—and also understood with a morbid certainty that the completion of the spell would unavoidably result in his own death. The large quantity of magic he was using was rapidly draining his life energy, and the toll it was taking was rapidly diminishing his vigor and abilities to perform the hard manual labor that was required of him.

All Adlar needed was a bit more time…time for the potion he was working on to finally reach that bright green color that would mean it was ripe and ready. He only needed to add a few more simple-to-find ingredients, as most of the more difficult ones had already been gathered. The grimoire that contained the incantation he needed rested innocently, its ancient spine lying flat on an old oak table at the center of the room—the only piece of furniture that the old barn had to offer.

It would be only a few more days, and then his task would be complete and he would be free to rest in peace.

He was certainly ready.

**October 31, 10:30 pm Sulez-Saltzman residence, Mystic Falls**

Meredith Sulez had tried to leave a candle constantly burning in the window ever since she had lost Alaric, if for no other reason than the symbolic feeling of comfort that it seemed to bring her when she felt cold, lost, and lonely—like she did tonight. For her, it was a beacon of hope shining in the depth of night.

A reminder that she couldn't give up.

That suicide is never the answer.

She knew that her friends would probably disapprove of the candle as a fire hazard, but where were they on a night like tonight, when the entire Mystic Falls community was enjoying the Halloween holiday some way or another, probably most of them at a party somewhere getting drunk and having sex? It just didn't seem right to Meredith that everyone was having fun and just continuing on with their normal, happy, lives after Alaric's death without mourning him properly. Part of her hated herself for thinking that way; she knew it was selfish and that she was projecting her pain upon others, but she couldn't help that it was the way she was emoting. Her sadness was spiraling rapidly into hate, both of herself and of those around her.

Standing up and turning on her heels, Meredith shook out the soreness in her legs from sitting for so long. She picked up her cell phone that was lying on the counter with its power off—it took all of her resolve to turn it on to check for messages, and she knew that at least Elena, Bonnie, and Caroline had probably tried to contact her tonight to try to drag her in for some overly-planned elaborate Halloween get together. She simply wasn't in the mood for it, but she also knew that if she kept on ignoring her phone forever that her friends would get worried, and probably do something stupid to try to make sure she was OK.

Unsurprised, Meredith saw that she had messages (just as she suspected, from Bonnie, Elena, and Caroline—her friends were so predictable). Instead of even putting herself through the pain of listening through them all, she began to draft out a short reply, thanking them for the offers and invitations, but that it was really better for her if she stayed in tonight to rest and relax.

_Hey girls sorry I'm not answering but I'm OK—just want to spend…_ was all she managed to get typed out before a massive sound of glass breaking came from the direction of downstairs.

The sound of pattering, scurrying feet got louder and louder, heading in her direction, as Meredith ran out to her balcony with her phone in hand, trying to simultaneously run and call for help.

To her ears, the footfalls didn't sound human, more like the click of sharp claws, like a big German shepherd dog walked on the linoleum tiles of the kitchen floor.

The first thought that came to her mind was werewolves—was it a full moon?—but why they would come after her instead of their typical vampire prey was something she couldn't explain. She dialed a number frantically, still hearing noises behind her, and was so grateful to hear a voice finally pick up on the other end of the line.

"Call me up for some fun? Finally got bored of staying locked in your room all Halloween?" said Damon Salvatore in his typical, sassy sultry voice. However, his playful tone faded into something much more determined and serious as he heard Meredith's reply, and the scared desperation in her voice as she begged him for help.

"I'm coming," he whispered into the receiver, and then the line went dead.

**Nov 1****st**** 3:00 am, Gilbert residence**

_I should have been used to it by now_, thought Elena Gilbert sarcastically.

_Yet another perfectly good three-day weekend turned miserable by the exploits of vampires in Mystic Falls. _It took a moment for the realization that she was now a vampire herself to sink in and hit home, but when it did it really hurt. Her stomach instantly felt as heavy as if she had swallowed a handful of rocks. Moving away wouldn't solve this problem; no, not any more. She was sunk into this vampire business so deep now that she was drowning in it.

_Just like Wickery Bridge all over again. And all over again no one is here to save me._

Elena wasn't typically the type to indulge in hard drinks—at least not alone, but tonight she was so mad at the Salvatores that turning to the bottle was the only option she could think of to help her calm down. _Drink or explode. An easy decision. _

Sitting cross-legged on her bed at three in the morning, her diary open in front of her, she was feeling in control for the first time in hours, if not a bit tipsy, her feelings written out word-by-word in cursive script on her lap, a vodka cocktail on her nightstand. If she could just get through tonight, then everything would be all right; she could worry about tomorrow in due time. _Baby steps_, she kept telling herself. _One day at a time._

Except that tonight was Halloween. This was the first year she had missed going to the annual Mystic Falls high school Halloween party in recent memory; and the Salvatore brothers were precisely the reason why she refused to go, despite all her friends' urgings and that fact that she had already bought a gorgeous (and quite expensive) costume for the occasion.

Stefan and Damon, eternally struggling to win the heart of the girl they both loved, were really upsetting her this time.

It was Stefan she had asked, of course it was Stefan—it would always be Stefan—but he had denied her (the nerve!) saying some bullshit along the lines of "it was too dangerous" for her to be going out on the town as a vampire, especially when she was still so new to the gig and did not have the wherewithal to control herself yet.

As if it were his business what she did—he had no idea what she was capable of and what would make her feel better! Sitting at home alone in the dark was certainly not helping—even her friends were ignoring her calls! She had called both Meredith and Bonnie over and over again, praying for an answer at the other end of the line, but she only got a hold of Bonnie's overly cheery pre-recorded voicemail message, and Meredith didn't even bother to pick up the phone.

_No one here to save me. No one cares._

Elena really felt like she could use a human friend to speak with.

Deep down inside, she was afraid that Stefan was right—that she _was_ too dangerous to interact with her classmates—to coexist with her schoolfriends, and that made it even worse as the hunger boiled away within her belly. And not just a need for blood, but a need for contact, a need for everything to be all right again.

Of course she hadn't given up just because Stefan didn't want her to go.

She wasn't stupid.

Instead, Elena decided to just wait for his elder brother Damon to come along and ask her, because of course she knew he would.

And he did.

Predictable, as always.

The sensitive bad-boy with his heart-melting baby blue eyes came to her in the parking lot after classes today and asked. Of course she accepted! Not only because it would be a social nightmare for the high-school empress to miss all the dance activities on such a fun holiday as Halloween (or, even worse, show up dateless!), but because she really did care about Damon and wanted him to be happy. Plus, sometimes Elena believed that Damon's ideas with regards to teaching her to be able to feed responsibly on living humans was the best route for her to take (though this thought still scared her half to death). And maybe, she thought, somewhere in the back of her subconscious mind, that this would be the best way to get back at Stefan—this would be the way that hurts the most.

Suddenly she was roused from her reverie by a sharp knock at the window, noticing for the first time that massive ache brewing in her head from all the tears and alcohol (and lack of blood). She was perhaps a bit more drunk than she thought, she realized, as she staggered step by step to the window. She already knew that of course it would be a Salvatore sitting on her windowsill, trying in vain to win forgiveness and explain themselves, not realizing how fiercely angry she had become this evening.

Elena was already mentally preparing herself for an argument when she caught, for just an instant, the outline of a strange bird coming in for a landing on the oak branch reaching closest to the window. In just that quick flash she saw the clear image of a large whitish falcon-bird with dark barring on his inner wing feathers, and honey-colored markings on the top of his head that resembled a helmet. What she did not know was that ordinarily falcons never hunt at all during the night, and that this particular species of falcon was a rare and magnificent European species known as the Saker, but she gazed at the bird in wonderment and surprise as its image blurred and changed into Elijah Mikaelson.

She wasn't really surprised, because she knew that Damon could shift his shape into a crow, but she had never before seen Elijah in an animal form. He rapped on the window again with his knuckles, even though he no longer needed to be invited in to Elena's and could have forced his way into her room as easily as a gold medal athlete breaking a cheap child's toy. Elijah Mikaelson would never do that though, he was far too polite; a surprising quality in one of the deadliest and strongest vampires in history—an Original.

At this point in the evening, nothing was going to phase Elena, and she opened the window casually and invited him in with a gesture.

"What are you doing here, Elijah?" she said, her words obviously slurred.

"You called me," he said calmly, holding up his cell phone in one hand, an expression of gentle concern and patience on his face. "Are you alright?"

She looked back towards her bed for her phone before realizing it was in the back pocket of her pants, the keypad was unlocked.

"It was a mistake, the number must have dialed accidentally. I'm fine."

She locked eyes again with him, and the two shared an awkward silence before Elena continued again, this time accusingly, "Did Klaus send you here to check on his precious doppelganger?" The thought that she was no longer of use to Klaus as a vampire didn't even cross her alcohol-addled mind.

Elijah's eyebrows went up, and his pale face darkened at the mention of his younger half-brother.

"No, actually I haven't seen him this evening. It seems he despises showing up dateless to parties just as much as you do. I came because I was worried," he continued, with emphasis on the word I. "I heard about what happened with Stefan and Damon."

Her eyes rolled, as if the mention of their names at this time was actually making her physically sick. "So I take it the entirety of Mystic Falls knows by now."

"Only those with knowledge of the vampires, as far as I know."

Elena sighed with resignation. "What should I have suspected; it's not like Caroline was exactly good at keeping secrets."

"She was at the party, of course. With Tyler. Stefan and Damon were there too; looking for you, I suppose. I don't believe that either of them thought that you were capable of staying away from a Halloween party."

"They were alright?"

"Yes, at least outwardly, but you already know that vampires heal quickly. Do you mind?" said Elijah, his voice as always quiet and refined as he gestured towards her bed.

"Sure, take a seat," she asked, overcome suddenly with a curious inquisitiveness and wanting desperately to forget all about Stefan and Damon for the moment. "Elijah, were you at the party with anyone?" She found it odd that such an attractive man as Elijah never seemed to get too close to the lady-folk.

"Just to supervise Rebekah. She went with Matt."

_ Oh Elijah… Always the protective older brother. _Though she did find it quite comical that he thought his thousand-plus year old younger sister would be in need of supervision at a party. If you asked her, Elena thought that Rebekah was more than capable of protecting herself, and inflicting some serious damage in the meantime. She hoped honestly that Rebekah would tread gently with Matt. If only she were as well mannered as Elijah. Elena's gaze returned to Elijah; she found herself suddenly drawn to him, to his finely-chiseled features and delicate nose, and wondered again why Elijah didn't seem to have a love-interest.

As far as Originals went, Elijah was a class act, and at this point, Elena was up for anything she could think of to get back at Stefan and Damon.

She leaned closer towards him, tears starting to flow again unintentionally, the wall of emotions, already weakened by heartbreak, hunger, and alcohol, and now baffled by the presence of another man in her room—on her bed, for that matter—was beginning to break.

"Elena, you're drunk," said Elijah calmly, trying to comfort, embracing her back in a tight hug. He wanted to help her out—his feelings towards her were powerful and complex—but he did not want to put her in a more difficult position than she already was. She was already in enough of a problematic love triangle between Stefan and Damon, and the addition of a third player would only make things so much worse. So he fought of his own rising lust and held away her intended kiss, but kept her in his embrace, his face close to her neck. He could smell her perfume—lilac and honey—and she, starving, could smell the alluring odor of blood pulsing through his carotid, and with each passing second it became harder and harder for her to resist the urge to bite in.

Elijah could feel her sharp-canines for just an instant against the soft skin of his neck, and in that moment he understood what she wanted and needed from him. He offered up his neck willingly to her lips, but Elena felt a pang of hesitation and backed her lips away, remembering the expression on Stefan's face when he found out she was blood-sharing with Damon. So she restrained herself and instead Elijah felt just her kiss, gentle and reserved, on the side of his neck.

It was at that moment, when Elena decided to give in, that the glass on the window shattered.


	2. Chapter 2: Killing Dead Things

Was it wrong that, for just a split second after the noise of crashing glass interrupted their intimacy, Elijah found himself more angrily annoyed about losing a precious opportunity with Elena than worried about facing a potential threat? What were the chances he was ever going to get that close to her again? And blood-sharing even?

To Elijah, the sharing of blood with another vampire occupied a near sacred position in his mind; the pleasure and contact feeling so sensual, so sexual. Even he, a being over a thousand years old, had only blood-shared with other vampires a handful of times in the past, mostly out of necessity, and never before with a vampire that he was attracted to as much as Elena. Relationships were something that Elijah had been conditioned to avoid, as women he loved had a bad habit of winding up dead (or worse), usually at the hands of his sadistic and deranged younger brother.

But this was _Elena_ whom he had been so close with—_Elena_ whom he had cared about more than anyone else (well, at least besides his family; sometimes). _Elena_, who was now a vampire in part because he had failed to protect her.

That fact that he had been ripped away from her when he was so close to getting what he wanted drove him into a silent rage. The interrupting figure that had leapt in from the window, and now turned to meet him in midair, had better watch out if it wanted to survive the night. There were few things more fear-provoking than a pissed-off original vampire.

**Mikaelson residence, Nov 1, 3:15 am **

As strange as it seemed, Kol Mikaelson had developed a definite fondness for high school dances.

There were, in fact, some perks to being stuck aged eternally at 21 years old, and being young and baby-faced enough to appeal to a younger class of women was certainly one of them. And Kol loved playing with adolescent, beautiful humans; not that he ever really formed genuine attachments with any of them—no, he knew well enough from his family that love was a vampire's greatest weakness. He simply enjoyed the modest pleasures of fun, companionship, and sex that the ladies could give to him, and he had the courage to throw them aside like used condoms when they'd served well enough their use.

Tonight had been a very good night for Kol. He was back at his family estate after a night of dancing and drinking, before finally fleeing home in the wee hours of morning as the rain had set in. But before he had left, he had acquired the three most physically attractive girls of the evening, who were currently clad in lingerie and dancing in front of him under compulsion. A blonde, a redhead, and an Asian, all late teens, all slender with long limbs and tiny perky breasts like ripe spring apples ready to be plucked. Being out-of-towners come in for the school dance, they had no idea of the town's vampire infestation, and did not know of the utility of the herb vervain and its practical value in resisting compulsion. So they had easily fallen under his power when he reached out to them with his compelling influence, bending their minds to his fell will.

Clad in only his boxers and again feeling his desires rising, Kol stood up and beckoned to the thin redhead, in his opinion the prettiest of the bunch; she followed him as if entranced as they walked into the bedroom of his elder brother Elijah; the door shut behind him.

The house was empty tonight except for Kol and his female posse; a fact he fully intended to use to his advantage.

Kol was not by any means a neat or organized individual (there is a slob in every family), and as a result he was always taking heat from his siblings about how disastrously disordered his room was. Rather than taking the time to compel the girls to clean it for him, Kol found it much more efficient to just borrow Elijah's hospital-clean room when he had ladies over, as Elijah was frequently out of town. Anyways, even if he did get caught, Elijah was much more mild mannered than Klaus was, and Kol thought he was apt to get away with only a minor verbal thrashing, rather than a dagger in his heart.

He laid the redhead down on his brother's bed, commanding her silently with his eyes alone, becoming even more aroused by the innocently vacant stare that emanated from her soft hazel orbs.

It was as Kol was removing her panties—lovely pastel green lingerie to match with her eyes—that the door was abruptly knocked down by a creature the like of which he had never seen before. It lunged at him fiercely, a mouth full of tiny teeth like miniature needles bared at him in an inhuman snarl.

The beast was like a man, but deformed and broken, the dirty tattered remains of a T-shirt and jeans hanging off of him like the clothes of a scarecrow. The creature's head looked like it had been bashed in a few times with a cudgel; the outline of his skull was misshaped and bloody in places, and its teeth were a nightmare—they were broken into at least three times the number they should have been, giving the impression of many tiny sharp inhuman teeth, like those of a sea monster confined eternally to the depths that had somehow crept its way up to make landfall.

Kol's eyes traced a path down to its hand, which he saw was covered in fresh wet blood the color of spoiled raspberries—from a quick glance out into the hallway, Kol could see that it had come from the throats of the blonde and the Asian, who were both lying headless in the living room.

_Such a waste of young beauty, _he though sadly.

He wished he'd at least been able to screw them first.

The redhead shrieked, and Kol sprang into action with all the might of an Original vampire, trading blows with the corpse-smelling fiend. His hand went through the monster's dead skin as easily as a hot knife through butter. He grabbed for its heart, which was limp and dead and cold, and pulled outwards, breaking the thing's ribcage and rending open its flesh in one strong motion. The beast fell on the ground with the empty finality of a bird, shot from the sky.

Kol just stood there, smiling like a madman.

His face and chest were covered with ugly splatter of the creature's foul smelling rotten blood-stuff. With this mission accomplished, he turned back to the redhead, proud of his work, ready to get his well-earned reward.

Then he felt the white-light hot pain in his back that was amongst the worst he had ever felt in his life as the downed creature struck back.

Apparently not dead.

Screaming, and suddenly a little frightened, Kol tried to jump away, but the knife held by the dead thing held stuck in the scapular bone of his shoulder. The pain intensified, and within Kol's heart a sort of panic was beginning to grow. _This isn't right! Why aren't I healing? I shouldn't be feeling this much pain from a simple knife strike… not unless the knife was dipped in vervain or something; but the pain is different than vervain… what?! _

He found himself now slouching onto the floor in anguish, his vision beginning to fade in and out, when the Thing finally pulled out the knife from his shoulder with a tremendous splash of blood. Blood spurted onto the walls of Elijah's room, and onto the face of the pretty redhead, who looked so terrified she was physically unable to move, her mouth contorted into a horrible shriek, as the knife was turned upon her as well, and she fell with a thud to the floor. Kol stared, puzzled, realizing that he was fading out of consciousness and seeing stars, unable to get up. As the creature moved in, the knife caught the light and glittered like diamond, and Kol braced himself with eyes closed in preparation for another horrible blow.

_Was this what it was like to die?_

The strike never did come, but almost as soon as he closed his eyes, Kol's ears lit up with a horrible screeching noise—the first thought that came to his mind was that of a live adult pig being fed through a wood chipper; it was _that_ ghastly. He gathered up the strength to open his eyes, which at this point seemed like a momentous accomplishment.

The zombie-creature's right arm, the one grasping the strange diamond-knife, was being held with the elbow joint well past the point of breaking in a hyperextended position behind it by none other than Kol's half-brother Klaus. He was dressed well, all in black as always, and his blonde hair was sopping wet and dripping on the floor of Elijah's room. Kol noticed with some distress that the left side of Klaus's face was bleeding quite profusely from a gash near his hairline, and made the connection that this was likely not the first zombie-thing that had met its end at Niklaus's hands this evening.

The beast was screaming and screaming, as Klaus moved the pressure from the elbow to the wrist, intending to break this joint next, and finally the zombie decided to drop the weapon and try to run.

Bad idea.

The thing had taken barely three steps before Klaus (after pocketing the knife) was upon it, slamming it into the ground with a deadly thud that would have shattered the bones of a human man. But still the thing, realizing it was in trouble, squealed and squirmed underneath him, fighting with everything it had like a cornered animal trying to get away. All reason had left it. The zombie-beast bit at his hands as he held it down, and the wounds it inflicted bled copiously and did not heal rapidly as wounds on vampires normally do.

Damn, the thing seemed almost to match Klaus in strength and intensity.

"BONNIE!" Klaus shouted urgently, "I've got it pinned!" and for the first time Kol noticed Elena's friend the witch Bonnie Bennett standing just outside the doorway with a few other people; Caroline Forbes, Rebekah, and her date Matt. They were still in their party costumes and seemed harried, yet surprisingly no one appeared to be outwardly injured. It was odd to see Matt, Caroline, and Bonnie willingly sharing Klaus's company, but emergencies like this apparently called for desperate measures.

Bonnie walked in with fire in her eyes and started chanting some lines of Latin in a terrifically thunderous voice. The beast that Klaus was holding down began to quake and then finally lay still, and, as Klaus leapt off just as Bonnie finished her incantation, its body began to smoke and went up at last in fierce blue flames, gone and (for the second time) dead.

"And THAT is how you kill a zombie," said Bonnie with a smirk, completing the moment.

It was Rebekah, his sister, who eventually got around to dressing the horrible wound on Kol's shoulder, as the group sat around the table in the Mikaelson's living room and tried to make heads or tails of what was going on. Apparently the beasts (about 4 of them) had shown up first at Caroline's place, where Rebekah, Matt, and Bonnie were also hanging out and enjoying a fun afterparty; Caroline's date, Tyler Lockwood, had left to go to the liquor store in the next town over only a few minutes before the attack.

Klaus claimed that he had been outside the house and heard the screams after the beasts' entrance because he was concerned for Rebekah and was shadowing her, but everyone else at the table really suspected that he had fallen for Caroline and was obviously stalking her. Kol noticed with amusement that Caroline had sat as far away from Klaus as possible, and had repeatedly tried to contact Tyler on her mobile (phone service seemed to be down for everyone).

Klaus just stared at Caroline from his seat with his shallow blue eyes as he licked at the stubborn wounds on his hands like an injured dog. The whole situation was obviously making Caroline uncomfortable.

"How did you know that spell, Bonnie?" asked Rebekah, trying to be nice and break the awkward silence that had fallen around the table. "It really worked wonders." Rebekah smiled, trying her best to be friendly, but also avoiding eye-contact with her half-brother.

"I always carry my Gran's and Emily Bennett's grimoires in my purse, just in case something like this happens and I need to reference them. Breaking the hold of a necromancer on a corpse is actually a really simple spell, I probably could have cast it without a reference."

But a cloud still hung over the table—the unspoken question that was unnerving everyone. _How was it that they had been able to injure vampires_? Even the Originals were apparently prone to damage at their hands, which rightfully unsettled the group, as when an Original dies their entire bloodline dies with them, so it was in everyone's best interests to keep them alive.

"So Bonnie, you reckon this mess was the work of dark witches?" asked Kol, feeling the pain in his wound as he spoke. Still, his voice retained its normal cocky tone. He would be just fine.

"Well, witches at least. As far as I know, they might have been just targeted onto vampires, which wouldn't necessarily make them "dark." Though necromancy in itself is primarily exploited by witches that have fallen prey to the lures of dark forces. What's dead should stay dead, in my humble opinion." She glared pointedly at the vampires sitting around her after spitting out that last phrase.

"Do you think they might have been targeting us?" asked Rebekah, meaning obviously her and her siblings. "Perhaps this is another attempt from mother to try to kill us from beyond the grave—she was a witch after all." The look on her face as she talked about her mother was one of profound sadness, of fondness for someone she had loved greatly but did not receive the same kind of love from in return. "We should try to contact Elij…"

Everyone stopped speaking abruptly as the sound of footsteps became apparent in the outer hall, increasing in volume as they got closer and closer. Nodding at each other, Klaus and Rebekah stood up simultaneously from their seats and positioned themselves at either side of the doorway, so the intruder would be in for a nasty surprise as soon as he walked through the entrance. The silence and anticipation in the room seemed palpable enough to cut with a knife.

The figure that finally emerged was neither Elijah nor a zombie monster, instead, Kol recognized it instantly as the pretty redhead that had fallen prey to the beast earlier—he was quite sure he had seen her die only an hour or so ago (though he was in quite a state when this had happened, so he wasn't 100% sure). Still she was there, clad only in green lingerie, her panties back on her but backwards, and her face and bosom was still splattered with Kol's blood. She looked very much alive, but out of it, her eyes not quite focused and her head tilted at a weird angle. And suddenly two and two clicked in Kol' head, and he had realized exactly what had happened.

**Hello Readers! I split this part (Chapters 2 and 3) up into two chapters-originally they were just one long chapter- because together they were really long; Don't worry, Elena and Elijah will get a bit more screen time in the next part! Thanks so much for taking the time to read my humble story.**


	3. Chapter 3: Dreams in Chains

"Guys, hold," Kol said, feeling everyone's eyes weigh heavily on him, especially Klaus's. He understood now why those eyes made Caroline so uncomfortable; he had a creepy stare.

"She's not a zombie."

"She's in transition."

Kol was not a fan of loose ends, and he didn't particularly like turning people unless they could pose a particular use to him, so if it were left up to him alone he would have ended the girl's existence right then and there. Becoming a vampire isn't exactly an easy feat, and living as one of the undead—though it definitely has its perks, isn't an easy path cut out for everyone. It was a path of control and moderation, of raging emotions and living on the edge, of giving in and taking back.

But it was Caroline, especially, who had been turned not of her own will relatively recently, who was apparently empathizing with the poor girl quite a bit. She had burst out into wild tears when the girl began begging for her life at Kol's hands, pleading with him that she deserved at least a chance at life as a vampire. And of course, when Caroline cried, Klaus couldn't help but get involved—he stood up for her and forced Kol's hand, so he backed down reluctantly, fuming.

At least the girl was hot. That was the one upside he could find in this situation. Maybe they could have some kinky vamp-on-vamp action. _Always looking on the bright side_.

Caroline tried her best to calm the girl down; the readhead was hysterical and beginning to feel the first pangs of bloodlust rise within her—it was all that Caroline could do to get the girl to tell her name—Christa, between gasps and sobs and moans. By this point, Caroline was feeling her protective instincts kicking in, and she resolved herself to keep the newborn vampire alive as well as she possibly could.

Caroline could be a very stubborn and independent woman when she wanted to be, which was part of the reason Kol hated her so much.

He preferred his sex toys to be a little more compliant.

For a person to be unfortunate enough to be turned in a vampire, they must die shortly after the ingestion of vampire blood, during the period when it is still in their bodily system, a fate obviously experienced by young Christa after having Kol's blood splattered hot over her face. To complete the process, the transitioning young vampire must then feed off human blood; if this is not done within a short enough time period, the individual will simply fade away into a natural enough death.

Christa at this time was experiencing extreme craving pangs for blood, and Caroline knew something had to be done quickly, or the situation was going to quickly turn from bad to worse. The pressure and stress lent her a surprise force of clarity and confidence. Looking towards Klaus but refusing to meet his eyes, Caroline spoke at him, "You must have a blood bag supply here, don't you? And how about some proper clothes for her as well? Now. Please."

"Or what, love?" he replied, intending to offend her and obviously not used to be spoken to in such a rough manner. He had half a mind to offer his assistance but only at a cost; maybe the promise of another date or even a peck on the cheek. He didn't want to push his luck, though—the line between hate and attraction is just so thin. His face clearing, Klaus broke into a toothy grin, let out a scoffing laugh, and turned away, obviously meaning to oblige.

Once the redhead had drunk a bit of blood and put on some of Rebekah's clean clothes, she began to calm down and the conversation around her slowly restarted as if nothing had happened at all. To them, she was barely worth ignoring.

**location ?, time ?**

The scene kept replaying itself over and over again in Elena's head, vivid yet foggy. Something that was perfect and right and golden on the outside, but when the wrapper was peeled away, the inside was full of confused scribbles that didn't make any sense.

She was in Stefan's room, on Stefan's bead, smelling Stefan's cologne in her nostrils, but the figure that came in through the doorway, clad in only a simple white towel, was not Stefan at all, but his older brother Damon.

Damon, whose hair shone black like the wings of a crow, and whose eyes glowed in the dark like strange blue fireflies, brilliant and exotic. She tried to smile at him naturally, but for some reason it came out feeling very forced on her lips; she was scared. Her heart beat like the wings of a frightened sparrow trapped within her ribs.

None of this was right—she wasn't scared of Damon—she loved him. Maybe not quite the same way as Stefan, but still, they were close. She thought she would die for him.

Except now.

For some reason, she felt more terrified of him than she had ever been of anything before in her life.

For some reason, the way this dream!Damon walked towards her seemed off; his expression too sinister, the way he was looking at her—or through her, more accurately—seemed too cold. Elena backed away on the bed, pressing her slender back onto a soft goose-down pillow against the headboard. She turned her neck, trying to look away and break the trance she was being put in by Damon's moonlit eyes. Looking for refuge.

And that's when she realized that she wasn't alone on the bed. Not at all.

Elijah was next to her, naked from the waist up. Elena barely had time to squeak out a quick, high-pitched note of surprise before his lips were on her own, voraciously hungry yet surprisingly gentle. His touch seemed to calm her as she suddenly realized she was half-naked as well; Elijah's hands pawing meekly at her breasts. He wanted more, and Elena was prepared to give it, but not with Damon there, watching and laughing. Yes, he was laughing now—the sounds exiting his lips sounding as alien as anything she had ever heard, like two rocks being swung together by a mad clown.

The pressure against her wrists was cold and unfamiliar as Elena struggled to get closer to Elijah, only to open her eyes and find everything dark. She gradually pulled her mind out of the thick, smothering fog and into consciousness; the callous sound of Damon's laughter was nothing more than the metallic smack of heavy chains against stone walls as she struggled.

It was OK, it was just a dream.

She had little memory of what happened or where she was, and it took her a few moments to piece things together.

She had almost blood-shared with Elijah. That HAD really happened, she remembered that now. _God, why did she always do such stupid things when she was drunk? What would Damon and Stefan think?_ Her cheeks were already shaded pale red with embarrassment. And worse than that, what was she supposed to think? She was enjoying every second of it! _It had to be the alcohol…_

Her head ached and she felt crippled with a sudden rush of bone-tingling hunger. Drowning in bloodlust, it took every ounce of her strength to struggle above the crashing hunger-waves, barely keeping her sanity afloat. The hangover she was stuck with wasn't helping either.

_Drowning again. Wickery Bridge. No one to save her._

Shaking her head managed to drag her back to the present. She was in a small room, which was dark except for faint glow pouring in through a small, barred window from a waxing moon. The walls behind her were made from cold and scratchy stone, which reminded her of architecture that she had seem in old churches or palaces. Cloying smells of mildew, blood, and distant burning incense filled her nostrils, and she fought the urge to sneeze, feeling helpless with her hands chained up above her head. Her hair was a mess, her make-up ruined, and she was alone again in the dark—or was she?

_Maybe she would rather be alone._

Still reeling from surprise and pain—Elena realized she had a sore and bleeding wound somewhere on her head, just another problem to add to the list—it again took Elena longer than it should have to realize she _wasn't_ by herself. Chained up in a similar fashion on the stone wall to her right was a familiar figure—the one she had been with when all this had happened, she remembered all too well—it was Elijah. His head hung down limply onto his chest, from which protruded something sharp and metallic.

He was dead.

Well, not truly and eternally dead, but effectively dead as long as that dagger remained stuck in his breast. Memories came rushing back to Elena unwillingly about the attack, but all she could remember was little snippets and freeze-frames—snarling teeth, rending claws, the color black, the smell of blood. And screaming. Lots and lots of screaming.

And whoever attacked them had a dagger. Was Klaus involved somehow? He was the only one that Elena knew of that definitely had access to the daggers.

It was with casual surprise that Elena noted there was a third figure in the room—a mess of bloodied, matted brown hair with enraged, inhuman eyes. The small feminine figure's breathing came in ragged gasps, and—to Elena's relief—her glaring eyes evidenced that she was actually conscious. Her eyes locked on Elena's and for a second flashed a feral yellow color, and Elena understood instantly that this stranger was a werewolf.

It took a few moments for Elena to form words, she was too busy battling her hunger and wondering if she could safely drink werewolf blood if she had to.

"Who are you? Do you know where we are?"

The voice that replied was little more than a croaky moan. Elena felt guilty as she saw the other girl really struggling to talk, obviously she had been through a lot and it was extremely difficult for her to put together even a few words at a time.

"Hayley. My name. You're Elena…..vampire?" Elena was having a hard time understanding the girl, who was obviously speaking through a lot of congealed blood in her mouth and throat.

"Yes, I'm a vampire, and my name is Elena. How long have you been here?" Internally, Elena was applauding herself for maintaining a respectable level of calm in her voice, but deep inside she knew it was only a charade—she was overwhelmingly scared.

"I knew you, I know Tyler. We haven't met, but I know you," said Hayley, her words slurring together in her suffering. She sat in silence for a few moments, observing Elena's response (just a shallow nod) before continuing. "Two and a half weeks. Shortly after the last full moon… Very little food, hardly any water…really hurts…" After this burst of effort, she lay her head back down against the wall, closing her eyes as if in an effort to shut out the pain.

Elena spent the rest of the night in silence, listening to the sound of Hayley's harsh breathing.

She felt like she was drowning.

**AN: Thanks so much for reading! This part is a bit shorter than the last few.**

**Will hopefully have the next part up within the next few days :)**

**Also, just out of curiosity, have any of my readers heard of / participated in NaNoWriMo before? This story was written for it last month… and I wondered how many of fanfictioners participated….  
**


End file.
